Chapter 3 - The Father I Never Knew
I left Adrian’s office carrying the photograph.
I didn’t know what frightened me more.
The possibility that my mother had lied.
Or the possibility that everything I knew about my childhood had been built on that lie.
I drove straight to my aunt Margaret’s house.
She opened the door and knew immediately something was wrong.
“Eve?”
“Did my mother know Adrian Vale?”
Margaret’s face changed.
I saw it.
That one reaction told me more than words could.
“You knew.”
She closed the door.
“Come inside.”
“No. Answer me.”
Margaret sighed.
“Your mother loved him.”
The words hit harder than the betrayal at the hotel.
“My mother loved Adrian Vale?”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“They met before you were born.”
“And my father?”
Margaret looked away.
“Your mother was engaged to someone else.”
“Who?”
“Michael Hart.”
“My father.”
“Yes.”
I swallowed.
“What happened?”
“Your mother discovered Michael was involved with people she didn’t trust.”
“Business?”
“More than business.”
“Did Adrian know?”
“He did.”
“What did he do?”
Margaret sat down.
“He tried to get her out.”
“Did he abandon her?”
“No.”
“Then why did I grow up without him?”
“Because she believed he was being watched.”
“By whom?”
“That’s the part she never told me.”
I stared at the photograph.
“Why didn’t she tell me?”
“Because she thought silence would keep you alive.”
That night, I barely slept.
At 2:17 a.m., my phone rang.
Unknown number.
I answered.
Nobody spoke.
Then I heard a woman whisper.
“Stop digging.”
The call ended.
I stared at the screen.
Five minutes later, another message appeared.
You should have married Dylan.
I felt cold.
The next morning, I went to the police.
The officer listened.
Then he asked if I had evidence.
I showed him the messages.
He took notes.
But there was little he could do.
An anonymous threat with no identifiable sender was not enough.
I left feeling frustrated.
As I stepped outside, a black SUV waited across the street.
The window lowered.
Adrian.
“Get in.”
“I’m not going anywhere with you.”
“I know who sent the messages.”
I stopped.
“What?”
“Get in.”
I did.
He drove without a driver.
“Who?”
“Victor Vale.”
“Who is that?”
“My uncle.”
I looked at him.
“Your uncle threatened me?”
“Maybe.”
“You said you knew who sent the messages.”
“I know where they came from.”
“Explain.”
“My family has been fighting over the company for twenty years.”
“Why?”
“Money.”
“That’s not enough.”
“No.”
He parked beside Lake Michigan.
“The real problem is control.”
He looked at the water.
“My father built Vale Rowan with my mother.”
“And Victor?”
“My father’s younger brother.”
“He wanted the company?”
“He wanted something more valuable.”
“What?”
“The records.”
“What records?”
“Financial transfers. Political favors. Shell companies. Names.”
I stared at him.
“What does that have to do with my mother?”
“She found a ledger.”
“What ledger?”
“The one proving Victor had been stealing from the company.”
I froze.
“My mother?”
“She copied the evidence.”
“What happened?”
“She was followed.”
“By Victor?”
“We never proved it.”
“Then how do you know?”
“Because Michael Hart was working with him.”
My stomach dropped.
“My father?”
Adrian nodded.
“Your father helped Victor hide the money.”
I looked away.
Everything became too much.
Dylan.
Sophie.
My mother.
My father.
The Vale family.
None of it seemed random anymore.
Then Adrian said something I never expected.
“Dylan knew.”
I turned toward him.
“Knew what?”
“That his grandfather was not the man he believed him to be.”
“His grandfather?”
“The original founder of the company.”
“So why lie?”
“Because my son was afraid.”
“Of what?”
“Of becoming his father.”
I looked at Adrian.
“And did he?”
Adrian looked down.
“Not completely.”
That answer stayed with me.
Three days later, Dylan came to my apartment again.
This time he looked different.
Not confident.
Not controlling.
Afraid.
“I need to tell you everything.”
I let him in.
He placed a folder on my kitchen table.
“I found this in Dad’s old files.”
I opened it.
There were photographs of my mother.
Photographs of Adrian.
Photographs of a small girl.
Me.
My breath caught.
“Why are there pictures of me?”
“Because my father was protecting you.”
“From whom?”
“I don't know.”
He sat down.
“I spent years believing Dad abandoned us. I thought he chose the company over me.”
“You did.”
“I was wrong.”
“Then explain.”
Dylan rubbed his face.
“My grandmother died when I was twelve.”
“I remember.”
“She left me a letter.”
“About what?”
“About you.”
I stared at him.
“What?”
“She said you and I were never supposed to meet.”
A chill moved through me.
“But we met anyway.”
“Yes.”
“Who introduced us?”
“Your mother.”
I stood.
“No.”
“She arranged for me to tutor you in math.”
“That’s impossible.”
“You were seventeen.”
“I remember meeting you at the library.”
“So do I.”
“You approached me.”
“I thought I did.”
He looked at me.
“But she asked me to.”
I took a step back.
“My mother wanted us together?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“To keep Adrian from reaching me.”
I blinked.
None of it made sense.
“Why would my mother use you as a shield?”
“Because she knew my father would protect his son.”
“Protect you from what?”
Dylan hesitated.
“From Victor.”
I sat down.
He continued.
“Victor believed your mother had hidden evidence. He thought she gave it to Adrian.”
“Did she?”
“Yes.”
“What was it?”
“A financial ledger.”
“Where is it?”
Dylan looked at me.
“That’s the problem.”
“What?”
“It was never found.”
The next morning, Adrian called.
He asked me to come to his home.
When I arrived, he was waiting beside a fireplace.
On the mantel sat a photograph of my mother.
“I have something to tell you.”
I crossed my arms.
“What?”
“I asked you to marry me.”
I stared at him.
“What?”
He took a breath.
“Not legally. Not yet.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Victor has been looking for the ledger for eight years.”
“Why me?”
“Because he believes your mother hid it with you.”
“I don't have it.”
“You may.”
“How?”
“Your mother left you something.”
“I have her jewelry. Her old journals.”
“Do you have the blue box?”
I froze.
My mother had one.
A small blue wooden box.
She never let me open it.
It was the only thing I still had from my childhood that felt completely untouched.
“It’s at my apartment.”
May you like
Adrian’s expression tightened.
“Then we need to get there before Victor does.”
